The Century Magazine
When you ask me what kind of stories we want for The Century, I am puzzled about answering, for the truth is we like almost all kinds, provided they are done with distinction. I think I may speak for the editorial staff when I say that distinction is the mark at which we are aiming.
The Century is a family magazine, edited for the mature members of the family. Every one who reads the magazine knows that we welcome new writers. Indeed, it is a day of rejoicing when the mail yields a story of real promise by an unknown writer.
We do not want war stories, for the public is tired of war-fiction; nor “machine-made” stories, the cheap clap-trap that has nothing to recommend it but facility.
For myself, I have a confession to make. It is this: “I do not know much about art, but I know what I like!” I am aware that the knowing will look askance upon this avowal of the Philistine, but it is a good creed and wears well. And I believe that the editor who pleases himself in the selection of manuscripts stands a better chance of pleasing others than he who guesses at the tastes of a fickle general public whom he fancies as remote from himself in their likings as a race of Martians.
Simplicity and Sincerity are the true gods in art as in life; of that I am sure.
You ask me to mention several short stories published in The Century within four or five years that we like particularly and to tell you why. I think first of “The Friends,” by Stacy Aumonier, printed in October, 1915. This story is an unplotted, realistic study of two drunkards, friends whose only bond was drink. It is perhaps the most powerful prohibition tract ever published and not a word of prohibition in it! An analysis of Aumonier’s work—any bit of it—will reveal a sureness of touch which is a refreshment to the soul. Some of his stories are finer than others, of course, but like Phyllis Bottome and Anne Douglas Sedgwick, there is always distinction about his work.
Some of the critics were good enough to call “The Friends” the best story published in any magazine that year. To me, besides my admiration for it as an artistic creation, it stands for two things: one, an example of an interesting phenomenon,—Mr. Aumonier was a man in middle life, I am told, when he began writing, and evidently found a beautiful and finished technique in his pocket!—the other, a warning never to judge a story by what it is not. It would be fatally easy to write “no plot” across such a manuscript and lose it forever.
“A Source of Irritation,” also by Stacy Aumonier, published in The Century for January, 1918, is a delicious bit of humor to my way of thinking. It is pleasant to know that Aumonier’s many-sided mind has humor and gaiety, too, in its composition.
“The Wedding Jest” and “Porcelain Cups” by James Branch Cabell, printed in September, 1919, and November, 1919 seem to me very lovely. In the stodge of every-day literary expression, such delicacy and grace are rare indeed. These stories are remarkable for that almost obsolete quality, “style.”
“The Fat of the Land,” by Anzia Yeszierska, a study of the Russian Jew in America and the reaction of the older generation to the loud prosperities of the younger, is excellent work, full of the intangible quality of race and keen in its psychology. It was published in The Century for August, 1919.
One wishes to mention, too, the black magic of “The Black Key,” by Joseph Hergesheimer, the rich embroideries of H. G. Dwight and Achmed Abdullah, the bold portraiture of Harvey O’Higgins, the subtly fine work of Marjory Morten. Also that exquisite study of innocence, “Red and White,” by Roland Pertwee; and Myla Jo Closser’s dog-story, “At the Gate.”
It is impossible for any magazine to sustain regularly the level of its best fiction, for the simple reason that such stories do not happen frequently—would there were more of them! Those I have mentioned are among the best, in my judgment, that The Century has published for several years, and it is towards work of such character that we are aiming.
I take it, dear Miss Wick, that you have asked me to characterize some of our most cherished stories in order to show by concrete examples the kind of fiction The Century wants; and I believe that you are right in thinking this plan the best way of saying it.
Sincerely yours,
Anne Stoddard.
The Century Magazine.
353 Fourth Avenue,
New York City.